“What have you got?”
“My Horn.”
“That’s Father’s Horn.”
“It’s Father’s now, but one day it’s going to be mine.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m oldest. The oldest brother gets to carry it when he gets old enough. Father had it, Grandfather had it, and Great-grandfather and on back forever.”
“…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Won’t I get to carry it sometimes?”
“Maybe I will let you. Or maybe we can get you one, too! Then we both will have one!”
“Like a set?”
“Yes, like a set! And everyone –“
“Oh, hurry! Put it back! Father’s coming!”
“Ssshhh! Not so loud, Faramir!”
“Run!”